


till you know that the words are right

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Image, Cissexism, Established Relationship, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Misgendering, Trope Subversion/Inversion, because genitals do not dictate gender, i love writing cisswap but this is not cisswap or ~genderswap or anything, it is literally just ~genitalswap and that's all, let me be blatantly clear: the entire point of this fic is that niall is a boy, niall is a boy who wakes up with a sudden vagina and surprise! is still a boy, okay thanks, please do not read this and interpret it as cisswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, at this stage in his career, waking up with breasts and a vagina on the morning of the biggest show of his <i>life</i> doesn't even seem that comparatively weird to Niall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	till you know that the words are right

**Author's Note:**

> the love of my life, [sonja](http://anniallation.tumblr.com), expressed discontent that whenever there's fics where a character wakes up with different genitals, it's advertised as 'woke up a [girl/boy]' fic. so for sonja's birthday, i decided to turn that trope on its head. here's a fic where niall wakes up with developed breasts and a vagina and is still a boy, because his sudden new genitals do not determine his gender :D
> 
> thanks to steph, jesse, and kelsey for reading this over at various points in its creation.
> 
> happy birthday, sonja my love! 
> 
> ***WARNING: This fic contains scenes with casual cissexism (e.g., genitals being conflated with gender). It also contains struggles with gender identity and slight misgendering. Proceed accordingly!

When Niall wakes up, Harry's already out of bed and out of the room. Tosser. It's the morning of the biggest day of Niall's natural-born life and Harry just gets up to work out at arse o'clock in the morning like he does every single other day? Unbelievable. 

Whatever. Niall's in Ireland, about to play the biggest and most important show of his entire life. He can fuck Harry's mouth any old time. 

He stretches and climbs out of the bed, scratching at an itch at the back of his scalp. His centre of balance feels different than normal, which is weird, but it's not like anything in his life has been normal for the past four years, so he ignores it, stumbling into the loo and turning the shower on, letting it run as it reaches temperature. 

Somehow, it's not until he's pulling his sleep shirt over his head that he realises he's got tits now. Proper ones – not the little pudge of muscle he's been starting to form with Mark's workout routines. They're not particularly big, he observes, staring at them in the mirror, cupping them with his hands curiously. There's a little heft of weight, and they jut out obviously from his chest, but they're not like... proper knockers, the way he and Louis always draw on pictures of themselves when they're bored on the bus. Mostly his nipples are bigger than he's used to.

"Huh," he says, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. His voice sounds a little higher-pitched than he's used to. He pokes at one nipple. It's sensitive. "Weird."

 _Maybe I'm still dreaming_ , he thinks, but being potentially asleep isn't any reason to give up on his daily routine and getting ready for _Croke fucking Park_ , so he tests the shower temperature and, satisfied that it's warm enough but not _too_ hot, pushes his boxer shorts down to step in.

And that's when he realises that his dick is gone, too.

"Weirder," he says, staring down at the spot where he used to have a cock and balls, perfectly normal-sized thank-you-very-much, and nestled soft against his thigh, just waiting for Harry to come along and trick it into fattening up, stiff and erect. He prods at his pubes, and his finger slips through and hit what he distantly recognises as a clitoris from the girls he's had sex with. It's a damp little nub, and when he pokes at it again, it feels good, so he shrugs and goes into the shower to multitask, sitting on the little stone bench inside, letting the spray hit his hair while he rubs at his clit. It's a different angle to what he's used to, so it takes a little while for it to feel _proper good_ , but as his hair slowly gets soaked through, water pounding at his back, warmth starts to coil deep in his belly until he's tipping his head back against the slick shower wall, eyes screwed shut against the spray but mouth gaping open as he gasps, shifting his hips up to his hand. 

His orgasm is a little less _obvious_ than he's used to – there's no blurt of spunk from the head of his cock, for example – but it more or less feels just as good as usual and that's generally what matters. 

He washes up as usual, except he doesn't have a dick to carefully soap up today, apparently, and dries off quickly, pulling on a pair of gym shorts that hang baggy on his legs, which either means that they're Liam's or that these body changes he either woke up with or is dreaming about have extended beyond gaining breasts and swapping a dick for a vagina. Almost as an afterthought, he tugs on a vest top, too. It clings a little to his new curves, and he can kind of see his nipples through it when he looks down. If he saw himself on the street like this, he'd probably be a bit turned on. 

They've rented the entire top-floor penthouse suite of their hotel, and no one can get in without a passcard and probably sixty different background checks. There's a private eating area, which Niall knows has been loaded up with breakfast for him and the rest of the boys and their crew – mostly him, though, if he's honest – so he makes his way down the hall and into the room.

Miraculously, all the lads are there and the rest of their crew has fucked off, probably getting Croker properly set up for the night. Even Zayn's plane has come in already, and Zayn is tipped back in an armchair by the window, Harry's hat on his face, shielding his eyes from the light. He's probably not actually asleep, but then you never can tell with Zayn. 

"Hey lads," Niall says, stretching a little obviously. His back cracks loudly, and Liam winces at the sound. He doesn't look up from his phone though, and Niall gets that, he does; Liam's having buckets of girl trouble this week.

"Morning," Louis mumbles, mouth full of cereal, and Harry, whose back is to the door, waves over his shoulder. 

No one looks at him, which is a little disappointing and not the reaction Niall was hoping for, so he pulls his vest over his head and throws it at Zayn. Zayn reaches out and catches it, which is definitely a mark in the 'awake' column, but still not total irrefutable evidence of his wakefulness. They've all gained weird and special skills out of necessity, living out of each other's pockets for four years. 

Niall wonders, vaguely, if this new body he's in is another weird and special skill he's gained, somehow. 

"Oi," he says, loudly enough for Zayn to slip Harry's hat off his face enough to glare at him. "Lads. Check out my tits."

 _That_ gets their attention, sort of. Harry just says, "Saw 'em last night, babe, they're lovely," but Louis actually looks over and his eyes widen. He chokes on his cereal and pounds the table till Liam looks up from his phone, concerned, and follows the point of Louis's finger to his chest. 

"Wait, you meant _actual_ tits, like proper go-in-a-bra breasts?" Liam asks, while Louis regains control of his oesophagus and gets out of his seat to poke one. 

"They feel real," he announces, and _that's_ when Harry, attentive boyfriend that he is, looks back at Niall. 

"You weren't kidding," Harry says, obviously and slowly, and Niall rolls his eyes. 

"Yes, catch up, I woke up with breasts," he says. "If I really _am_ awake. My dick's gone too; you didn't notice when you left this morning?"

"Had a call from Gemma," says Harry, distractedly, just as Liam asks, "What happened to your dick?"

"Turned into a vag, I reckon," says Niall, shrugging. He goes over to the buffet table of food and starts loading a plate with scrambled eggs and sausages. "As that's what's there instead."

"So you're like a girl, now?" Liam asks. He's frowning in Niall's general direction, phone upside down on the table next to him, as he tries to work this out.

"Don't much feel like a girl, to be honest," Niall says. "Still feel like the same old Nialler. Just got different bits than usual." He looks to Harry as he walks towards the table, because Harry's told him about some of the stuff he read, about bodies and gender and all that, that people link him to in his twitter mentions sometimes, but Harry has half-turned back around and is sitting, copiously silent.

"But-" Liam starts, but he breaks off when Zayn sits up properly, hat falling to his lap. 

"Reckon being a boy or a girl or anything else doesn't have much to do with your bits," Zayn says, quietly, and Niall abruptly remembers that Zayn read those articles, too, once, after talking to a cousin he only refers to as 'they' anymore. "Reckon it's more to do with what you feel like inside than what you look like outside."

Liam frowns, slightly, but Niall can tell he's working through it, and then: "That makes sense," he says, finally. "Like how sometimes you know something about yourself is true even if other people don't believe it. That doesn't make it any less true."

"Exactly," says Zayn, and he reaches out to give Liam a low-five. Niall is fairly certain that Liam is remembering how he used to know he'd be famous and now he's got the millions of twitter fans to prove it, but he can't be certain. Sometimes it's good to give people the benefit of the doubt. He's always found that to be especially true with Liam.

He clears his throat. "Anyway," he says. "I've been a bloke my whole life, don't see why that should change now, just 'cause I woke up a little bit different."

"That's the spirit," Louis says, clapping, and he leans in to pinch Niall's nipple soundly. Niall yelps a little bit, which he's not entirely proud of, but there you are. They're _sensitive_ now, even more than usual. Louis just laughs. "Figured it'd be a bit inappropriate if you were a girl, mate," he says, and claps a hand on Niall's shoulder. "But since you're still a bloke you're just as fair game as always."

"Whatever, Tommo," Niall says, rolling his eyes. He sits down and starts tucking into his food, pressing a foot against Harry's. "Probably don't do that on stage tonight, yeah?"

Louis purses his lips a little, but he ultimately nods. "Be a bit hard to explain if we had to bring attention to 'em on stage, I gather," he says. Niall had mostly just been thinking about how he didn't want to get _that_ distracted mid-song, but Louis's reason is good, too. 

"Um," says Zayn, hesitantly. "Your voice. Is a little higher."

"Yeah," Niall says, shrugging. "Noticed that, cheers mate."

"No, what I mean is," Zayn says, running a hand through his hair. "Have you tried singing? Since you woke up."

Oh. _Oh_. "Oh," Niall says, because he _hasn't_. "Mostly I just tried masturbating, to be honest."

Liam huffs out a laugh, startled, and Louis follows, delighted. Harry remains silent, staring down at his nearly-full bowl of fruit salad. Niall's heart clenches a little. He presses his foot harder against Harry's. Harry doesn't shift his foot away, but he doesn't look up, either. 

"All right, mate, let's test it out," says Liam, and Niall has a very confusing moment where he thinks that Liam is asking him to wank in _front_ of them before he catches back onto Zayn's question about singing. So he hums a little to get his place, and then starts singing the chorus of _Don't Forget Where You Belong_. Liam joins in after a beat, and Zayn and Louis, and finally Harry, quietly, tapping his hand against his leg to keep the beat as he joins in. 

"Doesn't sound terribly different," Liam decides, and he'd know best, probably, so Niall nods. "Them extra coaching lessons really paid off, bro."

Niall can't help the smile breaking out across his face. "Thanks, mate," he says, reaching over to slap Liam's shoulder to show the depths of his appreciation. "I do try."

"Should I tell Caroline to find you some kind of –" Zayn makes a face and gestures at his own chest. "Binder thing? In case things don't… change? By the time we go on stage tonight?"

Niall frowns down at his breasts. "Are they big enough to need that?" he asks, poking one. It jiggles, but only slightly. Belatedly, he realises his top is still on the ground. Also, Harry is still quiet. "Can't it just look like I've got really buff really fast?"

"Mark Jarvis, miracle man," Liam agrees, but Louis squints critically at Niall's chest and shakes his head.

"I mean," Louis says. "Maybe not, because literally no one would expect you to suddenly have a _girl's_ body –" he breaks off at the glare that both Niall and Zayn shoot him – "Sorry, I meant a _Niall's_ body, with _breasts_ and a vagina instead of a dick and balls, but mate – you do definitely have tits now." He looks Niall over again. "But maybe people will think you just got identical bee stings on your nipples."

"Maybe they'll think we're suddenly into titty torture, Lou," Niall says, baring his teeth wolfishly at Louis and then pursing his lips and winking. He considers adding a lewd smile into the mix, but Harry's still got his foot pressed silently against Niall's, and the quiet is starting to really bother him. He reaches over tentatively and brushes his pinky finger against the outer seam of Harry's jeans. Harry's gaze darts over, and he flashes a smile at Niall, but it's fleeting and doesn't entirely meet his eyes.

Niall swallows, hard. 

Zayn, bless his soul, must notice, because he stands up and moves to grab Louis and Liam's arms. "We'll go sort this out," he says, significantly. "You eat breakfast."

Once they're gone, Niall slips his hand fully into Harry's, lacing their fingers together. Harry's fingers are thicker against his, now. It's very weird, actually; Niall has spent three years getting used to growing up with the lads (Harry) as friends, learning how to navigate their shifting heights and weights and muscle masses hand in hand with learning how to navigate the industry, and the past year specifically learning how to navigate the space between his and Harry's bodies; the way they can tangle together and squeeze around each other differently on bus bunks, and in hotel rooms, and in Harry's stupid LA bungalow, and Harry's stepdad's Holmes Chapel bungalow, and Niall's home in Mullingar, and his flat in London. He's spent a year learning how his hand fits when it's in Harry's, and it's different now, and for the first time since Niall woke up, he starts to feel proper overwhelmed. 

"Say something," he says, and he's not too proud to try and keep the begging note out of his voice.

"This doesn't just happen," Harry says. "You realise that, right? People don't just wake up in entirely new bodies."

"It's still me," Niall says, spreading his free hand wide. "Harry, I'm still Niall."

"I _know_ that," says Harry, impatiently. "You couldn't be any less Niall if you tried, Nialler; you know yourself better than probably anyone else in the whole bloody world and you're always so unflappably true to yourself."

Niall knows that's something Harry's struggled with in the past, knowing himself and knowing which self to be true to. He's not typically insecure, but their celebrity doesn't really give them as much leeway for exploring their identities as any of them would have liked. Niall's lucky in that he's never really questioned himself: he's always been Niall Horan, boy who dreamt of singing and then boy who sang; boy who dreamt of falling in love with someone as close as a best friend and then boy who loved Harry. None of the other lads have ever had Niall's level of conviction in their sense of self, but Louis and Liam and Zayn all had more time to learn themselves before they were thrust into this life, and they all push back against the limits their fame puts on them, in their own unique ways. Harry wasn't comfortable working outside of those limits for the longest time - Niall sometimes thinks that the first time Harry really pushed past the boundaries of their job was the night Harry kissed him. 

But Harry's got so much better at navigating his space, and Niall thinks that he's probably entitled to a bit of a panic of his own, waking up with entirely different genitals, so he says, "So what's your _point_ , Harry?" direct, instead of trying to gentle an answer out of him.

"Literally just that usually people have to go through a _process_ to get different –" Harry breaks off and gestures up and down Niall's body. "You know. And usually it's to _match_ their gender. That's all."

That's a fair point, Niall supposes. "Really says a lot about our lives, doesn't it," he says.

"That you woke up with a vagina?"

"That it doesn't even seem that out of the ordinary, to me or the rest of the lads," Niall says, shrugging, but now that he's actually thinking about it, yeah, it's really fucking weird and it's not – he doesn't – well. 

It's different, and he's learned, over the past four or five years, that 'different' doesn’t usually mean 'bad,' but it _is_ certainly an adjustment. On the morning of the first day of probably the most important weekend of his life, it's downright overwhelming. 

Something must show in his face, because Harry's expression softens, and he strokes his thumb over Niall's knuckles. "Are you doing okay, babe?"

Niall takes a deep breath, sighs it out. He twists, draping his legs over Harry's lap and leaning against Harry's side, hands still clenched tight together. "It's an adjustment," he says. "Woke up in an entirely different body, you see."

Harry presses a kiss, right at Niall's hairline above his ear. "I can't imagine," he says. 

"I just –" Niall frowns, sorting through his thoughts. "I wouldn't mind, so much, because it's not like it will get in the way of playing _Croker_ tonight; I can sing and everything. But I don't know how... permanent this is, basically." He scratches at his side, and even though he knows he's not got the body he grew up with right now, for whatever reason, it's still startling, coming in contact with flesh he doesn't remember, in proportions he's not used to. "Like, as you said. This doesn't, you know. Happen. So. Who's to say if it'll happen back?" He might have to live with this body. It might not just go away with a good night's sleep.

"It'll – it'll work out somehow, babe," Harry says, resting a hand high on Niall's thigh. "One way or another. There are options."

"My first option, then," says Niall, taking another deep breath and straightening up slightly, "Is to smash it tonight. Croke Park!!"

"We'll be so good," Harry assures him, and leans in for a quick kiss. "Best night of your life."

"It'll certainly be memorable," Niall laughs, looking down at his body, the way that his breasts round softly out, the way that his shorts don't drape over a soft little bulge between his legs anymore. 

"That it will," Harry says, scruffing his hand through Niall's hair playfully.

+++

It's not till an hour or so before they're due to start performing that Niall thinks of another potential issue. He's checked that any changes in his hand size haven't obstructed his ability to play guitar, and his palm has to stretch in a bit of a different way around the neck to get at the right strings, but he strummed through a couple of songs to get used to it and he feels pretty solid on that. He's made sure that his outfit changes settle over his slight chest without draping – he tried the binder, but you could kind of see it under his shirt and he doesn't want to chance that – and talked Zayn into going back to Caroline and getting - _not girl's underwear_ , he reminds himself, _because I'm still a boy_ \- panties to put under his boxers, because people with the same kind of bits as he has right now have been wearing that kind of thing for years and years, and he figures it's best to defer to those who are more familiar with the kind of anatomy he's got right now, just in case underpants are important in some way. He's sung through more of their songs during soundcheck and they all sounded fine.

Harry's been checking in with him every so often, just a little, "Doing okay?" here and there. Niall appreciates it, he _does_ , but Harry's eyes keep shifting a little off-centre when he asks, like he can't look directly at Niall's new tits. It can't be Niall's face, which is hardly different at all – maybe a little less angular, like he's eighteen again and hasn't lost the last of his baby fat yet – but still, Harry's gaze doesn't linger.

Usually they sneak off after soundcheck, while 5SOS are getting set up to open the show, and have a bit of a mutual messy blowjob, or jerk each other off, just to take off the nervous edge that they still get before a show, even after four years of performing. But Harry's intent on his phone, off in a corner of their lounging room, absently fiddling with an apple stem as he scrolls through something or another instead of crowding Niall against the corner of room, right next to the door to the loos. 

Niall gets this sinking feeling that he knows what's going on.

He walks over to Harry and plops down, straddling Harry's lap. "Hi, boyfriend," he says, tugging a curl free of Harry's headscarf.

"Hey, babe," says Harry, blinking a little and setting his phone aside. "Doing okay?"

"We go on in an hour," Niall says, noncommittally. He wants to nudge in for a kiss, but if he's right about what Harry's thinking – maybe he shouldn't.

Harry's hands come down to Niall's hips and rest, heavy and warm over the waistband of Niall's jeans. "Is that so?"

Niall takes a deep breath. "Look, Haz –" he says, tangling a hand in the open side of Harry's button-down top. "I know you're like, proper super gay."

"Yeah?" Harry says, sounding a bit confused. "We established that, like, two and a half years ago, didn't we?"

"I just," Niall says, and he shivers a little, trying to shake off his overwhelming sense of uncertainty. "I just wanted to tell you, I get it. If you don't want – if you're not interested in, well." He gestures down at his body. "This, right now." He sighs a little. "Like, I know we've talked about it, and I'm still definitely, you know. A bloke. Regardless of waking up with different bits. I'm still –" his voice breaks, scales up a little until he wrests it back under control. "Your Nialler. But like, I know this isn't like... what you signed up for. And it can be hard to think of a, um, vagina as boy bits. So. Like, I just wanted to let you know. I get it, if that's hard for you."

Harry stares at Niall for an impossibly long, difficult moment. "Niall," he says, a little brokenly, and moves one hand up to run his thumb through Niall's fringe. " _No_. I wouldn't – that's not-"

"Like, I could just blow you," Niall interrupts. "Like we usually do. You don't have to – get me. You know."

Harry takes a deep breath and tilts his forehead against Niall's. "Sorry I've been a shite boyfriend," he says.

"You haven't!" Niall protests. Waking up to discover the guy you've been dating for a year now suddenly has different bits would throw anyone off, probably.

"I have," says Harry. "If I've made you think for one second that I don't see you one hundred percent as _my_ boyfriend anymore." He twists his mouth, a little wryly. "It's just a bit of an adjustment."

"You can say that again," Niall says, with feeling, and Harry chances a smile at him. 

"I love you," he says, firmly. "And I've known, like, conceptually for a while that the bits don't make the boy, or whatever. I just haven't had to... apply those thoughts to my life. Yet. And I'm sorry."

"If it helps," says Niall, running a thumb along Harry's jaw. "It's a bit weird for me, too."

Harry laughs at that, and nudges in for a little nipping kiss, biting gently at Niall's lower lip. "Couldn't have guessed," he jokes, and pulls back just enough to peer over Niall's shoulder. "We've got the room to ourselves," he adds, and Niall sits back and raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Not even going to whisk me away into some out-of-the-way closet, Styles?" Niall asks, and Harry laughs and kisses him again, reaching down to fumble at the close of Niall's jeans. He works his hand in, and inches it down. Niall catches his breath when Harry's fingers find his clit – but that's when Harry freezes.

"...Haz?" Niall asks, after a moment. "Still with me?"

Harry blinks at him, biting his lip and furrowing his brow slightly. "I'm sorry," he says, forcing a bit of a laugh. "It's just a little different to what I'm used to. I'm wrapping my head around it." He kisses Niall again, thoroughly enough that it serves as an adequate distraction from, well, everything, for a moment or two. 

"Just let me know when you're settled," Niall says, finally.

Harry grins at him and crooks his fingers, brushing them against Niall's clit. "I'm settled," he says, and, looking intently down at their laps, strokes his fingertip through the moisture gathering between Niall's legs and up.

All told, it's not ultimately as good as the orgasm Niall gave himself that morning, but then again, it's a learning curve. By the end of it, Harry is moving with a little more deliberation, and actually hitting spots that make heat build low in Niall's belly, coiling in his gut and causing him to shift his hips down, grinding against the heel of Harry's hand. It's not _bad_ , when he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, groaning as Harry brings him over the edge, but it's also not fireworks behind his eyes.

He jerks Harry off after, routine as anything, and here, today, he has a definite advantage. He knows Harry's dick almost as well as he knows his own, by this point – better, even, because at least Harry _has_ a dick right now – and he knows how to twist his hand here, how to catch at Harry's foreskin _just_ enough with his thumbnail there, to have Harry panting wetly against Niall's neck and spilling into his hand relatively quickly.

It's a little anticlimactic, in a way that they haven't been since they finally got it together, and Niall can't help but feel a little bit let down afterward. It doesn't last very long, though, luckily. He pushes the feeling aside and then it's time to get their microphones and get ready to sing, and it's _Croke Park_ , so Niall can't help but feel thrilled. Even with the rain drizzling down around them, even with this new centre of gravity that's already had him fall down once today, when they were getting a feel for the new stage, he can't help but grin and _smash it_.

+++

If he's entirely honest, Niall was hoping he'd wake up the next morning and everything would be back to normal.

It's not.

Harry's up already, which is normal, singing quietly in the shower, rinsing off after a workout. Niall's got about a hundred missed messages on his phone, half of which are from the lads, which is also normal, but at good portion of those messages is about whether Niall wants to go bra shopping (he doesn't) or whether his dick is back yet (it isn't). 

He stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, pushing the shower door open and climbing in behind Harry. "Guess who's still got tits?" he asks, wrapping his arms around Harry from behind till they're pushed flush together. If it were any other morning, Niall would rock his hips forward so that his morning wood would judge against the crack of Harry's arse. 

Now his breasts just press into Harry's back.

"Guess who still loves their beautiful boyfriend?" Harry asks, turning around. It's cheesy of him, but he looks directly at Niall as he says it, which is progress from yesterday, at least.

"Probably Perrie," Niall says, glibly.

Harry taps him on the nose with a damp finger. "Fair point," he says. "Except Zayn's more of a fiancé than a boyfriend now, isn't he?"

"Same difference," Niall says, shrugging. He twists out of Harry's hold. "We've got that flight to Glasgow in like, an hour. Should wash up."

"Glasgow," Harry says, happily, and he kisses Niall's neck. "Then Croke Park again. Then Croke Park _again_. Then your game. This is truly the weekend of Niall Horan."

"In more ways than one," Niall agrees. "Glad you've caught on." He slaps Harry's bum, the sound especially loud in the shower, and reaches around him for the shampoo. "Do my hair?"

"Do me?" Harry asks, crowding Niall against the shower wall. He runs a hand deliberately down Niall's side and over onto his stomach.

"I get it, Harry," Niall says, twisting away. "You've caught up now. You're all down with my bloke-pussy. You don't have to go on about it."

"I'm... not?" Harry says, frowning. "I'm just... this is us, Niall. This is what we do."

Niall wants to press the issue, but Harry is right. "Are you sure?" he asks, though, because at least three quarters of the time, when they're fucking, it's Niall fucking Harry.

" _Yes_ ," Harry says, shuffling even closer and stealing a kiss. "I'm really sorry about yesterday, Niall. I want to – try again. Try better." He pauses, then winks. "Anyway, we can always get you a strap-on. Till your dick comes back. If it comes back."

"If?" Niall asks, hollowly.

"I mean, have you ever heard of anyone waking up with like... randomly different genitals?" Harry asks. "What are the chances it's going to happen to you again?"

"Please don't talk about that right now," Niall says, and then: "Can we like – tonight? Instead of now? We really do have to get ready to go." He sighs. "I also need to wrap my head around this now, too. Because it's day two, and it hasn't like – just stopped."

Harry nods, takes a step back. "Okay," he says. "Okay, yeah. Sorry."

"Hey," says Niall, glance darting all over Harry's face. "Hey, Haz?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," Niall says, and he kisses Harry chastely on the cheek.

+++

Every day Niall wakes up, he runs a hand down his torso, over one breast and down till his fingers are tangling in his pubes and not encountering any sort of dick. After a week, his breasts start to hurt from the jiggling on stage, and he sheepishly goes to Caroline and asks her to switch his wardrobe for darker shirts with higher necklines; shirts that won't show off a binder, or even a sports bra, or anything.

After two weeks, he starts to think that maybe Harry was right; that he might not wake up in the body he grew up in.

After three weeks, he gets his period.

"I see what all the fuss is about now," he tells Harry that night, doubled over on their bed, curling up in a way that offsets the cramps, and then: "Christ, I'm going to have to figure out how to wear a _tampon_."

"Could ask Gems," Harry says, and Niall throws a pillow at him.

"Come cuddle," Niall counters. He's taken his shirt off – he only ever wears bras – or binders – when he's on stage – and his skin is so, so sensitive that even the duvet cover against his side is too much. "And tell Louis not to pinch my nipples tomorrow, I'd probably sprout wings and fly off."

"That sensitive, huh?" Harry asks, folding himself around Niall's back. He wraps an arm around Niall's belly, low and warm and careful, letting Niall snuggle against him. "Interesting."

"Don't you dare," says Niall, but he laughs a little and rests his hand on Harry's. "Love you."

"Love you too," Harry says. He brushes a kiss against the back of Niall's neck. "Best boyfriend _ever_."

Harry's been doing this thing lately, emphasizing that Niall is his boyfriend. At first it grated at Niall, but now that it's been three weeks with no signs of a change back, he's welcoming it. All the lads have it down by now, that Niall's got tits and everything, and that he'll walk around shirtless just as much as he ever did before in the privacy of their own bus, or hotel rooms, or backstage, and he's just as much of a lad as he ever was, but Harry's got to the point where he'll look directly at Niall, or look lingeringly over Niall's body, and then kiss him, murmuring _I love you, boyfriend_ or _you're the best boyfriend I could ask for_ , and it just reminds Niall of what's important, kind of.

He's beginning to think he won't go back again. It's beginning to feel a little less crushingly terrifying. He's still Niall, one fifth of internationally superfamous boyband One Direction, one half of Niall-and-Harry, and one hundred percent himself.

"I could get used to this," he tells Harry, musingly, and Harry kisses his shoulder, smiling into it.

"I knew you could, love," he murmurs. "Me, too."

Niall twists around in Harry's hold until he's facing him, forehead to forehead. "Good," he says. "Now that that's settled, how about ordering us thirty different things from room service?"

Definitely one hundred percent Niall Horan.

**Author's Note:**

> title from one more time with feeling by regina spektor
> 
> [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com) | [reblog](http://dulosis.tumblr.com/post/86861774381/fic-till-you-know-that-the-words-are-right-1d-narry)


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